The Pirata Codex
by Cmdr's Monkey
Summary: A Booke For Those Who Desire to Keep to the Code and Live a Pirate's Life. Drabble collection. Characters: Elizabeth Swann, Hector Barbossa, Ragetti and Pintel, Davy Jones, Cutler Beckett, Jack Sparrow, Edward Teague, Calypso, Brethren Court, and so on...
1. The Light

**Title**: The Light

**Pairing/Characters**: Barbossa

**Summary**: What happens after you die?

Over the ages there had always been on unknown that was constant in man's existence. It had survived the rise and fall of great empires, ever present during wars and peacetime, and always speculated upon by every living man, woman and child.

What happens after you die?

This one question was persistently plaguing the mind of one man who was gripped by blackness and the icy cold fingers of Death as it wrapped around his bleeding heart. What was going to happen to him now; a mutinous, traitorous, thieving, murdering, lying pirate?

At first, there was only the darkness and no awareness. Nothing. There was no Chiron waiting with his ferryboat to take him across Acheron's dark waters. Not even the mythical Davy Jones and his cursed ship, the Flying Dutchman. None of the myths and legends he grew up with hearing as a child and later as an adult waited for his soul. No Devil and his Hell or God and Heaven. Nothing.

Then he saw it.

A tiny pinprick of light in the distance that was growing brighter as time so slowly agonizingly passed that he felt he would go mad from the wait. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since his death. All he knew was the darkness and now this curiosity. It was familiar to him, he had heard from those who had been on Death's bed, that there was a tunnel of light when you died.

Could this be what happens after death?

He suddenly found himself drawn to it and as it grew closer or brighter, he could not tell, he found he felt warmer than ever before. He wanted to reach out to it, to grasp it and let it take him to his awaited fate. It was better, had to better than this limbo he was stuck in.

He said something. He wasn't sure what though. All he knew now was the bright light filling his vision. Then, as quickly as it had come, its brightness was faded and nearly gone by something, a shadow crossing in front of it. "No, Hecta Barbossa, him not be carried away by Chiron to Hades' Gate this day."

With bright light blurred by the shadow, his vision began to clear and he saw what he had been reaching out for, past the smiling, ink toothed and tattooed visage of Tia Dalma.

An oil lantern.


	2. Cross

**Title: **Cross

**Pairings/Characters:** Davy Jones

**Summary**: Jones contemplates God.

The Jesuit cross, dangled from the man's trembling hands, mumbling a prayer of salvation and protection from _his _God as he stood, kneeling before the Devil's demons. Davy Jones' had scowled at the man's defiance toward his offer to another of the survivors and had quickly stalked to crouch down before him. That was when he noticed the silver pendant and scoffed at the man's faith.

God.

There was no God in his opinion. God would not have allowed him to be cursed for an eternity as the Ferrier of Souls. God would not have allowed him to fall for another god before Him. Or perhaps he had allowed it and punished him for breaking the First Commandment then?

Jones no longer cared what God thought. Out here on the high seas, he was God. He could decide who lived and who didn't. He could offer life instead of torment or torment instead of judgment. Out here, God and His Son did not exist.

"To the depths."


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

**Title**: Dreams & Nightmares

**Pairing/Characters**: Barbossa, Elizabeth

**Summary**: Elizabeth's fear gives way to curiosity; during CotBP

Two days and nights had passed since he had told the tale of their woe and misery to the fiery spirit that was young Miss Turner. By then, she had over come her fear of the horror that he and his crew no doubt were to her. In that time since, he had come to take notice to her stealing curious glances towards him whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

He caught one such glance on the evening before the morrow when they would reach the dreaded and cursed Isle de Muerta. He had been in his cabin studying his maps and scrolls, it was all he could do these days, when out of the corner of his vision he caught her staring at him curiously. He hid an amused smile behind an arm as he reached up to his shoulder to pet the monkey that was perched there.

She had stayed in the corner of his cabin near the windows and as far away from him as possible, not because it felt safer to be in a corner but because it allowed the moon to shimmer its pale light down around her like an invisible barrier to ward him off. No doubt, she believed he would not step into the moonlight, too reluctant to willingly let what was left of his humanity rot away with his flesh.

He had quietly laughed at her silly notions of what he was willing and unwilling to do.

When he caught her staring at him again minutes later, he decided he would break the silence that had fallen between them in the cabin, save for the persistent and familiar creaking of wood as the ship sailed across the sea. "Yeh find somethin' interestin', missy?"

He noticed her flinch slightly at his voice and was pleased to see her relax just a little once more. But the wariness of his presence was still there in her slender form as she sat there on the floor of his cabin, curled up into a frightened ball against the cabinets beneath the windows.

"Is this a dream?" he heard her quietly ask and he couldn't help and laugh at her disbelieving inquiry.

She scowled at him and her gaze followed him as he stood from his chair and walked around the table, leaving his maps and scrolls alone where they lay. As he moved closer to her, she watched him warily, ready to bolt like some frightened doe that was giving some predator the benefit of doubt before she would flee to safety. But as he drew nearer to the pale moonlight, streaming through the cabin windows, he paused at the threshold. He could see particles of dust and moist air that he could not feel, glitter down and through the illuminating beams of light, and for a brief moment his mind saw the light as the barrier that his captive no doubt believed it to be.

She was such a pretty thing and it was a shame she was frightened of everything around her and of him. If his heart had not been as black as coal from years of misery, pain and nothingness, he would have felt something for her. Sympathy perhaps.

"Mayhap it is," he replied, returning his attention back to her. Her gaze met his as he slowly stepped into the moonlight, breaking the beams with his transforming body as a part of him began to rot away. Pale, leathery and dirty skin faded into flecks of desiccated, gray flesh, stretched over muscle-less bone. His clothing crumbled away and shredded until it looked moth and worm eaten, faded and as dead looking as he was. Most of his face was still full of flesh and life as was a side of his body, the angle of the moonlight not quite covering him entirely and cruelly letting him appear partly human and partly monstrous to his guest. "Mayhap it isn't."

He stood there, towering over her and unintentionally intimidating her. He did not want to frighten her like he had wanted to when he first revealed their plight to her and so tried to relax his skeletal frame as much as a skeleton could look. He watched her as she watched him and saw her curious eyes look him over. He witnessed the fear slowly disappear from her face and body as curiosity won her over.

Before he knew it, she was slowly standing up, using the cabinets as support. She was still a few feet from him, but if she wanted to satisfy her curiosity, he would not advance on her or move in any way that would frighten or spook her into retreating. For once in the last decade, there was one person he wanted to not fear him for what he had become because of some curse.

"I'll not bite, nor raise a single bone toward yeh," he promised her softly and she looked at him in a way that spoke a thousand words to him. She did not trust him nor believed that he would not try something the moment she came closer. "Would it help if I gave yeh a dinner knife to reassure yeh?"

He would have smiled if he had lips to smile with when he saw her features soften at his attempt to lighten the mood with humor. He could have sworn he saw a small smile crack across her face at his words, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He waited for her to make her move, whether it be to come forward and satisfy her curiosity or to simply slide back down to her place on the floor.

When she did finally decide on what to do, he kept still and pretended to try and not notice her approaching and checking his transformed body. He did not move when from the corner of his eye he saw her slip a finger between his ribs to make sure there really was empty space there and not some clever illusion. He was quiet and still as the dead when he watched her poke at his torn sleeve and the bone underneath.

And when she finally inspected his face with her curious fingers, he was still unmoving save for his eyes, which met hers with a question. When she was done poking and prodding him, lifting his rotting attire to inspect bone and desiccated flesh beneath, and accidentally peeling some of his dead flesh from him and making a disgusted face in her attempt to discard it, she had quickly moved away and back to her corner.

"Does that answer yer question, missy?"

He caught her slight nod and walked away, his body immediately restoring itself to its former self, a facsimile of a living human being. As he sauntered his way back over to the table, he heard her quiet reply.

"Dreams are what we create in our sleep," she said and he looked back at her, "Nightmares are what we live."

"I trust yer nightmare be a little less frightenin' now?"

"Yes. Thank you."


	4. Eloquence

**Title**: Eloquence

**Pairing/Characters**: Barbossa, Elizabeth

**Summary**: Elizabeth discovers pirates aren't so illiterate after all

"I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," the pirate captain had said to her in response to her demands. He took her stare of disbelief as confusion and mockingly translated his sentence to her in plain English. "Means 'no'."

_I know what it means_, she silently bit back. She could not believe that a pirate such as him could know such complex words and know how to properly use them in a sentence.

"Very well, I'll drop it." She yanked the gold medallion from around her neck and strode to the side to let it dangle over the water. She saw a flash of nervousness in his eyes even though his face was calm and in control.

"Me holds are burstin' with swag. That bit of shine matters to us. Why?" he asked carefully and she gave her reasons why. But when he challenged her, she let it drop an inch. The pirates had cried out in protest and lunged forward to stop her from sending the gold into the bay.

"Ah," the captain chuckles and smiles pleasantly, though she could see the irritation in his face at being tricked by a mere girl.

_Not so eloquent with your words now are we, Captain?_ She gave him a crocodile's smile.


	5. Poke

**Title**: Poke

**Pairing/Characters**: Barbossa, Pintel and Ragetti

**Summary**: Barbossa watches a pair of his crew. Pre-CotBP, post-Mutiny

He watched from the stern castle as one of them became enamored by the consequences of their predicament by poking another in the flesh-less ribs.

"Stop it."

The other poked again and gave a delighted laugh as his finger slipped through his shipmate's ribs.

"I said stop it," the shipmate growled in annoyance.

"But it's fun!" defended the poker.

"Do it again an' so help me God I'll knock yer skull off," the shipmate snapped.

Poke.

"Graah!"

"Me eye!"

Captain Barbossa rolled his eyes as he turned away from the spectacle that was Ragetti as the scrawny, skeletal pirate chased after a wooden ball.


	6. Tea

**Title**: Tea

**Pairing/Characters**: Barbossa, Elizabeth, implied Barbossabeth

**Summary**: Barbossa needs something warm.

He sniffs and while keeping one hand on the tiller, he uses the other to wipe at his nose with a dirty and nearly frozen kerchief. The kerchief wasn't the only thing that he had that was frozen stiff though. Several times now he had to break the ice from his beard and moustache and blink away the snowflakes from his eyes.

When they had first entered the cold region that was the Antarctic several days ago, he had felt awful. Now he was down right miserable with a body that felt half frozen and a head cold to add on top of it. The junk they had acquired from Sao Feng provided very little protection from the frozen Hell they were sailing through, so he was not surprised to discover some of his Chinese crew half-frozen or dead, or with a cold like the one that he had now.

He was grateful when she had come with a steaming tin cup of something that vaguely smelled of spice, his nose too stuffed up to properly tell, he smiled warmly at her and thanked her.

"Mmmm... peppermint tea, thank yeh Miss Swann." She briefly smiled at him in return but said nothing as she walked away. He already felt much warmer as he both sipped the steaming drink and silently watched her give out another cup to the old man and his parrot.

Yes. He felt much warmer now.


	7. The Soul of Music

**Title:** The Soul of Music

**Characters:** Edward Teague

**Summary:** Teague speaks of music.

The strings of the guitar were strung and a pleasing sound that was a C minor chord floated from the instrument. "Music isn't what you make from an instrument like this," the old Keeper said as his hands and fingers moved down the neck and struck the strings again. "It is merely a tool that helps you create it.

"Music is what comes from within you, from the soul and the heart." He then began playing a tune with his eyes closed.

As he played, the music came from within him and flowed smoothly from his hands into the guitar and he smiled at the pleasing sound he created from his own soul and heart.


	8. A Man So Evil

**Title: **A Man So Evil

**Characters**: Hector Barbossa

**Summary**: A quick look into what had given Barbossa his reputation.

Some say Hector Barbossa was a 'man so evil that Hell spat him back out'. Others say that they could be no more wrong than a sailor claiming that the Kraken was real. But Hector Barbossa was the most vile, despicable, bloodthirsty cutthroat, second to Blackbeard himself, which could have ever possibly sailed the seas. Beset upon with a terrible curse, the man succumbed to the most evil of natures to free himself and his crew of the woes that their own foolish greed had put upon themselves.

Ships burned. Bays ran red with the blood of hundreds. Women screamed, children cried and men died. Atrocities were committed and innocence destroyed. Prayers could not bring salvation to those who fell beneath the cutlasses and cannon shot of the cursed pirates. Priests held crosses before them once the wicked moon revealed what they were and Hector Barbossa merely laughed at their God just before he would impale them upon his sword or put one between their eyes.

There would be no warning to his attacks save for a sinister fog rolling in out of no where in the middle of the night. The superstitious captains would sail away and mothers would close their shutters and children would huddle together in the hopes that this night would not bring the Death ship and her ghastly crew to their shores.

And it was all for the gold.

The evil, vile, wicked and enchanted gold that had made Hector Barbossa and his crew the myth and legend they had become. He was something to fear, something to whisper, and something not to wish upon others. The Devil despised him, the Saints pitied him and God had abandoned him. He was a man so evil that Hell spat him back out.

"Hell hath indeed spat me back out," Hector Barbossa whispered in amusement as he looked up at the image of Tia Dalma hovering over his prone body, "an' given me to the Devil's queen."


	9. Déjà Vu

**Title**: Déjà Vu  
**Characters**: Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa  
**Summary**: Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa relive the past in 19th century Wild West.

The dry heat that was the Painted Desert in southwestern Arizona was unbearable for the cowboy who now stood in only his long underwear wearing a beaten hat on his head and turquoise beads and eagle feathers in his hair as he kept his hands raised at gunpoint. In front of him was another cowboy pointing a Colt .45 at him and holding on to the reins of his black horse. Said black horse was one of the reasons why he was standing in his long underwear to begin with.

"After all these years, Hector, you still covet what is rightfully mine," Jack sneered at the older cowboy who wore a dusty brown long coat over a red vest and white shirt and dirty brown breeches. He glanced beside Barbossa at the Red Indian dressed as a frontier gentleman on a painted horse and holding a Winchester rifle at Jack in one hand and a bottle in the other. Coyote Jim was his name and he thought he could trust the Cherokee but it seemed even Indians could be bought with a bottle of whiskey.

"Twas never rightfully yours, Jack," replied Hector as he cocked the revolver at his former partner in crime. They both had been train and bank robbers throughout Texas and up and down the Mississippi River for the last five years and things had begun to heat up between them and the law. Hector wanted to continue their reign of terror and success in the region but Jack wanted to go somewhere else where they weren't known or wanted hence why they were out in the middle of the desert with Hector holding the reins of Jack's precious black Pearl and pointing a revolver at him. "Besides, Jack, you're a dead man an' dead men have no use for a fast horse."

"You know you can't kill me, Hector," Jack defiantly said and held up his chin.

"No, but I can force you to dig your grave." The older thief tossed him a spade and it landed at Jack's feet. "So start digging. Dig deep too, real deep."

Jack scowled at him and picked up the spade and started to dig into the hard ground of the desert. When he was done and buried to his head and Hector had rode off on his horse with Coyote Jim leaving behind a trail of dust in their wake, Jack Sparrow spitting out that dust, the former and immortal pirate began to contemplate how he got into this situation _again_.

"At least last time he marooned me on an island with rum," he sighed and tried to wiggle his way out of the ground. This time he had no rum, no clothes save for his underwear, and no pistol to get his revenge on Barbossa later. Someone, at least, learned their lesson. He was certain that if he hadn't been immortal, Hector would have shot him dead this time too.

Now he just needed to get out of this damned hole before the vultures showed up.


	10. The OK Corral

**Title: ** The O.K. Corral  
**Characters:** Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa  
**Summary**: After having been left in the Painted Desert, Jack gets his revenge in the way of the Old West.

The heat wave that hit Tombstone, Arizona was unbearable and it brought in all sorts of customers and undesirables into the small saloon, including one man who had chosen to sit alone in the shadowy corner near the back of the place to watch those who came in to escape the scorching heat outside. Though inside the saloon was no different with the number of people inside trying to relax either with a glass of whiskey or scotch, playing a round of cards with friends and new acquaintances, watching the horrible entertainment or smoking their cigarillos and cigars. The latter one tended to introduce additional heat and stifling, choking air to the already hot place.

But to Jackie "Sparrow" James, no relation to Jessie James who was a similar outlaw to himself, wasn't interested in the entertainment or paid little attention to how uncomfortable it was in the saloon. His attention was riveted on a single patron who was busy playing a hand of poker with a group of other unsavory men and delicately balancing a voluptuous woman on his leg as he smoked a cigar and drank whiskey. Sitting at a nearby table and keeping an eye on the other card players was a red Indian, dressed in a weathered duster and pants over a stained shirt and sporting a beaten gentleman's hat with an eagle's feather.

Jack had business with the man whose back the Indian was watching out for. Business that could be settled only one way and he knew the other was not going to like it one bit. But Jack did not plan on letting him even have one moment to like or dislike it. A man who had been buried to his head in the middle of the desert and left there to rot and suffer, since dying wasn't an option for him, and having his favored horse stolen from him; Jack wanted to make sure that Blackheart Hector didn't know what was coming to him until it finally came to him.

So he continued to watch the former pirate turned gunfighter, bank and train robber and cattle rustler entertain himself with the woman in his lap and the pile of bills and coin that was growing in front of him. Jack wouldn't make his move until the current entertainment ended its act and the main show began for that was when no one would notice a single man moving through the crowd to his target, more importantly Hector and Coyote Jim would not notice him, which is what he wanted.

The cowboys and outlaws, civilians and soldiers that occupied the saloon finished booing and throwing glasses at the poor comedic act that was a sad looking clown who looked like he had one too many to drink and was in need of another. He looked more like he belonged in one of Wild Bills shows further north than in a place like this. The clown jeered at the unruly men and gestured dismissively at them as he made his way off the stage and as soon as he was gone everyone quieted down and went back to their drinks and conversations until the main show started.

Jack took a measured sip of his whiskey and allowed his eyes to drift to the parting red curtains. He allowed small grin to cross his lips as the men began to get rowdy once more and cat call and wolf whistle as a very comely singer stepped out in revealing attire and began to sing. Her voice silenced the men for only a few moments until she started to dance enticingly to them and the crowd once more became rowdy.

By midway through the act, Jack was already moving through the rowdy men and as he drew closer to the table of his intended destination, he could see that Hector was enjoying the show as much as the rest of the men in the saloon. But that enjoyment and the smirking grin on his face was soon washed away in a wave of dread and surprise as Jack Sparrow suddenly appeared in his field of vision pointing a ivory handled and silver barreled Peacemaker .45 in his face.

"I've waited six months for this," Jack said as his finger squeezed the trigger. "Hello and good-bye, Hector."


	11. Who Am I?

**Title: **Who Am I?  
**Characters: **Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa  
**Summary:** Jack thinks back on how he ended up in a cell again and starts to regret shooting Barbossa.  
**  
**

Things hadn't gone well after he had shot Barbossa for the second time in several dozen years. In fact things had gone to hell in a hand basket really quick once people began to notice that Hector was still alive with a bleeding hole in his head that was rapidly healing. Jack remembered shooting him, saying good bye to his face just before he had, and the crowd in the saloon had all suddenly quieted and looked in their direction.

A woman had screamed. It had been the wench on Barbossa's lap. Then the next thing he knew Coyote Jim had smashed a whiskey bottle across his head and sent him sprawling into another outlaw who hadn't taken too kindly at having his drink spilled into his lap or a man crashing into him. He had shoved Jack away and drew his own pistol to shoot him, but his aim was spoiled by another wench trying to prevent a fight in the saloon by smashing someone else's whiskey bottle over his head. That pissed off the cowboy who then went after Coyote Jim, blaming him for the loss of his drink.

Soon enough there was a brawl in the saloon and Jack was doing his best to try and get out before the sheriff and his deputies showed up.

But he hadn't gotten out fast enough and now he paced in the brick laced cell with Barbossa and Jim for company. Well he had Jim for company. Barbossa was in the cell next door with the local pastor, sheriff and surgeon trying to figure out how he could be alive after taking a shot to the head. A shot that the sheriff had seen happen since he apparently had been in the saloon at the time of the incident, and was baffled as to how it was mostly healed now.

Jack grabbed the bars and tried to peer next door and listen to what was going on with Barbossa. He knew he should have planned his revenge a little more carefully now that they couldn't be killed by anyone, not even by their own hands. He blanched at the conversation he heard. It wasn't good. The pastor wanted to try an exorcism on Barbossa, the sheriff wanted to hang him and the only one on the immortal pirate's side was the surgeon but even though you couldn't really say he was on Barbossa's side. The man wanted to examine him. To Jack, examine meant experiment and he could only imagine what kind of experiments would be done on Barbossa.

_Deserves him right, it does,_he thought. But despite wanting his revenge for being betrayed again, buried to the neck in the middle of the Painted Desert and having his favorite horse stolen; he did not and could not wish such a fate on Barbossa despite how much he hated him right now. Or had hated him. His anger at what the older pirate had done to him had dissipated the moment he had shot him in the face. The score had been settled and now they were back on even terms again. Friends? Perhaps not. Partners? Maybe, if the schemes were worth the effort to set aside their differences and hatred for each other again.

The three authorities left Barbossa's cell and brought Jack out of his thoughts. As soon as they were gone the older pirate's arms appeared from his cell before gripping the bars. "Jaack. Yeh certainly have a flair for gettin' us into awkward an' most difficult situations as well as gettin' out of 'em. Care to share how you'll be getting' us out of this one, lad?"

Jack relaxed when he noticed that there was no hint of malice or hatred in the older pirate's voice. After all he had just shot him in the face and revealed a closely held secret about them, well _him_ at least. He hung his arms through the bars as he leaned on the cell door. He sounded a bit cocky when he replied to his former partner, "Course I do. Who am I?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Barbossa answered the age old question wearily.


	12. Fallen

_I'm writing this shortly after I lost a very dear friend of mine of 16 years. _

**Title**: Fallen

**Pairing/Characters**: Edward Teague****

******Summary**: Teague tries to save a trusted friend.

The Englishman shook in fear as the pistol remained focused on him while his patient lay dying on the cherry stained oak table in a captain's cabin aboard one of the most notorious pirate ships to sail the Seven Seas. He never thought that his life as a village doctor would be disrupted like so, especially by a band of marauding pirates who sole purpose was to seek him out, kidnap him and bring him back to their ship to save the life of one of their own.

At least he had been led to believe that the grievously wounded crewman had indeed been a man. Instead he found out that he was suppose to operate on a _dog_. What did these scoundrels think he was? He was a doctor of human medicine, not husbandry!

"I've told you a thousand times and I'll tell you a thousand times more, I heal people, not animals!" he protested despite having a pistol aimed at his head. He was gambling that this pirate would not kill him while the man wanted to save the dog. From what he could tell, the animal had been grievously wounded, possibly from an engagement with an opposing crew. Navy perhaps? Or a merchant ship?

"You'll heal me boy or you'll find yerself healin' your dead corpse," the pirate replied in an irritatingly calm tone. The doctor suspected this man was the captain for who else could demand an entire crew of pirates to raid a small port town for a doctor to save a dog?

"But I don't know anything about veterinary medicine!" The bi-corned and dreadlock bedecked captain cocked the pistol for emphasis to seriousness of his threat and the doctor could see him pulling the trigger. He threw his hands up in defense and shouted, "Wait! Perhaps... perhaps I'm being a little hasty in judging my own abilities? A wound is a wound, right?"

"Aye," the pirate agreed but still held the pistol to him. The dog yowled in pain and fear and tried to move from the table despite being held down by a deckhand as this battle of wills went on between the doctor and captain. "Yer life depends on his continuin', mate. Now save him."

"Alright, but just so you know, for the record I warned you." The doctor stepped over to the mangy dog and quickly did a visual examination of the animal. It was a tannish-brown mongrel with matted and dirtied fur. It's own blood further matted the hairs and from what he could see, the pirates had tried to help the poor beast with what limited knowledge of medicine they knew. But it apparently had not been enough. _Internal injuries most likely,_ the doctor thought as he peeled back the blood soaked bandages that were wrapped around the animal's torso. A wound the size of a guinea seeped crimson liquid past caked blood and matted hair and the doctor replaced the bandage, shaking his head.

"Well?" the aged pirate inquired and the doctor could hear the concern and worry in his voice. He could not believe that this pirate could actually care about something.

"It's bad," the Englishman answered over another yowl of pain from the animal. "Deep. I assume that there is an exit wound on the other side?" The nod he received from the pirate confirmed his suspicions. "There is not much I can do for him then. All I can do is clean his wounds and sew him up and hope that whatever weapon did this, missed any of his vital organs."

"Then why are yeh still yappin'?" the pirate growled at him. The pistol pointed at the doctor had never wavered once. "Save him."

"I cannot guarantee it!" the doctor protested. "If you had any heart for the beast, you would put him out of his misery and spare him the pain!" Wrong choice of words he soon quickly learned. The pistol lowered a few inches and exploded with a loud report, smoke and brimstone. The doctor screamed in pain as he fell to the floor of the cabin, clutching his leg where blood welled up and stained his trousers.

"Save him or the next one kills you!" shouted the captain and his captive pulled away in fright and pain. The doctor had been right that the pirate would not kill him outright. At least not yet anyway.

"Captain," called the deckhand that had been holding the dog. He called again, this time using the man's name when he did not respond the first time. "Edward, he's gone."

The old pirate looked away from his prisoner to his dog, shock and loss written on his face at the news and the sight of the animal still on the table. His chest did not rise in labored breathing. No yowls of pain came from him to let them know he was fighting it even though he was frightened and hurting. He was still as if he was asleep.

"No..." he breathed and stepped over to the dog. "No... Keys." He reached a hand out to the mangy dog and softly stroked the animal's head, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to awaken him, to make him breathe once more. Everything else was forgotten as the deckhand stepped away and the wounded doctor stared in astonishment and fear for his own life.

Nothing mattered now.

Not the doctor. Not his ship or crew. Not the plunder they had won at a heavy price. Not even himself.

The one true friend he's ever had and ever trusted was gone. A lost dog he had found on Pelegosto Island being chased by savages, but saved on a random chance of being nearby to restock the _Misty Lady's_ fresh water supply; and whom had been his constant companion for the last several years since, was now gone.

"Sir," intruded the deckhand, bringing the pirate captain back to a reality he did not want to face at the moment. "What of him?" He turned to face the cowering doctor, his grief quickly turning into anger. This man could have saved his dog. Could have nursed him back to health. But instead of doing what he had been asked, the man had delayed with excuses and now his friend was gone.

"As promised, your life for his life," he growled and held out a hand for a pistol and the deckhand handed over his own. The pirate turned it on the doctor and pulled back the hammer.

"No, please! I beg of you...!"

"An' Keys begged for your help an' yeh did nothin'!" snarled the pirate just before pulling the trigger. A second body lay dead in his cabin and he tossed the smoking pistol onto it. He waved away the deckhand to clear the mess and be gone while he returned to his fallen friend. When he was alone finally, he pulled a chair over and sat down, the grief returning in full force as his anger subsided.

He buried his fingers of one hand into the fur of his fallen companion.

"I'm sorry, my friend."

_The dog's name comes from Stutley Constable, whom I __raided, pillaged, plundered and otherwise pilfered my weaselly black guts out_ _out from to borrow the really cool name. ;)_


End file.
